


Needs and Wants

by snarkstark



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Family, Guilt, Possibly a fix-it in chapters to come, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Steve Rogers Feels, Steve admitting he did wrong, Tony Stark does not need Steve Rogers, Tony-centric so strong Team Cap may not like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-11-16 16:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11256285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkstark/pseuds/snarkstark
Summary: Looking around, it was as if Tony hadn't noticed he was gone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, for my boi @hellyestony on instagram. Whatta bean.

The cool, admittedly smoggy air of New York filled Steve's lungs as he took yet another calming breath. Despite never thinking that he'd miss it, the bitter scent and slightly suspicious blanket of fog looming above them were enough to become a constant thrum of reminder that he was no longer in hot, humid Wakanda. The word home tugged at the back of his mind and he fiercely wrestled it back into pre-existence. 

The phone was in his belt, the clean black leather of his new uniform still startling him ever so slightly when he caught sight of himself in the reflection of the Stark Tower windows. It was the third pocket to the left, a comforting 'weight' that he'd gone scrambling for so many times in the night. Not to mention the night he'd... Well, he tried not to think about it. A hand on his shoulder startled him out of his reverie: Sam. His friend raised an eyebrow, though his dark eyes betrayed how nervous he was. They had talked about it, in the dead of night, over rich, real hot chocolate, how Sam could never be truly absolved of his lingering regrets. He loved Steve, he truly did, but he'd gone against the will of 117 countries and Stark just because Steve had asked him to play follow the leader. It simply wasn't like him, he wasn't some brainless fanboy, he could make decisions for himself. 

Steve, nursing his own mug as if it were his most treasured possession, had choked out an apology. 

The worst part was, Tony had fixed it. Of course, he had, that's what he fucking did. And maybe if he, the perfect soldier, had some faith, to begin with, he would have realised that. The accords that Ross had presented him with and the ones that had been finalised were completely different documents, thanks to people like Tony and T'Challa. These accords gave them responsibility without the finger pointing, gave them rules without the total restriction, gave the people choice, on how they wanted to be protected. 

Ah, sweet democracy. 

Remember when Steve had been associated with that?

A more insistent tug on his shoulder made him follow his friends into Stark Tower, a very confusing clash of anxiety and relief washing over him as he stepped through the thresh-hold of those ridiculous glass doors. Tony was nowhere in sight, which was no surprise. If he were the man, he'd be a little scared to face Steve too. 

A few moments later, a brisk looking Pepper Potts arrived in the elevator, looking for all the world like Steve was a particularly irritating stain on the heel of her stilettos that she couldn't quite get rid off. "Tony is... on the fourth floor, I think. Yes, Lagos plans." She strutted past them without another word, muttering something very unprofessional that sounded a lot like, 'the only freedom he won't let us have is freedom from him'. 

Well, it was much more eloquent hate than the graffiti of him with demon eyes and _facist_ scribbled over it that he'd seen popping up around on the way here. 

Feeling as if his throat had closed up, he obediently headed to the elevator and hit the button for the fourth floor, deaf to Scott's empty chatter about how cool (that's cool with at least six exclamation marks, by the way), this whole place was. Steve had no hope of listening when all he could focus on was the fact that JARVIS hadn't greeted them upon entry. Had Tony told him not to? He didn't doubt it, the man could be petty sometimes, he supposed. 

The vibrations of the elevator were muted by good technology as they ascended, the ex-Captain's stomach dropping as the lift moved in the opposite direction. It was hard work refusing the urge to slam the ground floor button and run away with his tail between his legs. 

Back to Wakanda.

Back to Wakanda where he pretended not to be hiding from the judging eyes of the people, the dark, unvoiced accusations that were no less truthful and no less pointed. Where he sat, for hours, with shaky hands clutching the remote control as he watched the new and improved blur of red and gold sweep across the screen, fighting the villain that they should be fighting together. Where he ended up scrambling in the night, for a chunky, ugly phone, head still reeling from nightmares.

And he would sit, tangled in the ocean of sheets, mourning that he couldn't press those numbers because he knew he didn't deserve forgiveness.

Steve wondered if the others had heard him crying the night they were pardoned. 

The sleek, reflective doors slid open, revealing the clean cut, curves of what used to be the communal floor. It wouldn't be now, and Steve wondered if Tony had redesigned it completely to erase memories of them - he'd spent the first month avoiding the colour red for God's sake, knowing it would send him running for a private jet. They stepped out, and Steve supposed he should be getting used to being completely fucking wrong all the time. 

The floor had barely changed, it seemed just as homey as before. Always observant, his eyes flickered around the room, noting the changes. Observant, sure. Not like he was trying to avoid looking at a certain someone, of course.

Over the coffee table, there were all sorts of textbooks lying around, an orange trail staining them from a half-opened bag of Cheetos. A workbook lay beside them, with carefully written answers, though it appears they were copied from a sheet that most definitely had Tony's hectic scrawl scribbled all over it, demonstrating some sort of equation that Steve was grateful he never had to learn. 

Shoved under some couch cushions, he noted a brown coat that looked suspiciously like the one Bruce used to don, and under closer inspection, there was a pair of glasses shoved hastily down the crack of the seats too. He supposed it was no wonder the other genius didn't stick around and say 'hi' to the team that made all superheroes look like Bruce's worst fear. 

Monsters. 

The kitchenette was producing a glorious smell, and he heard a higher pitched voice, one he recognised from the masked vigilante at the airport, calling out. "Aunt May made muffins! She told you to eat more!" 

Open on the bigger table that Tony was standing over was an opened watch box, a little note inside that said something about not being late, and a happy birthday. Pepper, no doubt. His mind was attacked with an onslaught of Tony spending another year alone on his birthday, holed up in the shop, before he noted a picture somewhere close to the box. It was Tony, gesticulating wildly at a foam covered cake, while Dum-E hung his claw in shame. But his previous teammate was absolutely surrounded by people. A young boy tucked close to a woman similar to Tony's age. Pepper and Rhodey, both with shit-eating grins as if they had planned the whole thing. Natasha sat behind, her smirk less well hidden than a spy should manage. T'Challa was holding a beautifully wrapped gift in his hands, smiling fondly. 

He supposed the two had become closed while they worked together. Steve remembered when he used to look at Tony that way, and the billionaire would catch him. He'd do that adorably confused scrunching thing with his nose, and then become amused, his molten eyes crinkling with delight at having caught Steve staring. Sometimes he'd tease, telling the Captain to take a picture - it would last longer. It ripped through his chest, the angry, hurt ghost of _could have been._ He wondered if Tony gave that look to the King now. 

Sensing that his time was up, Steve finally started walking towards where Tony and unfamiliar man were discussing what looked like floor plans. "No, more windows." Tony stated firmly, "If they're gonna be bedridden, they should get a view. But that glass needs to be as strong as my armour. I'll design it myself." The genius was rambling slightly, a lock of his hair falling rebelliously over his forehead.

The ex-Captain's breath caught at how... _good_ Tony looked. His dark suit and crimson shirt were pressed and sharp, his hair thick and just as stylishly tussled as before. He was, even more, sun-kissed; it was no doubt thanks to his escapades with T'Challa. The thought that the hero had possibly been in Wakanda at the same time as the band of fugitives made his stomach turn. Steve may have been stupid lately but he wasn't foolish enough to believe Tony didn't know exactly where they were. 

Sam cleared his throat, and he kept his eyes trained on the spot just a little left of Tony's head as the billionaire jerked his head up and saw them, striding forward. To Stark's credit, he offered a hand (and an introduction to the new editions) without an ounce of hesitation. "Welcome back." He greeted his old friends with a nod that didn't even seem forced. Checking his phone, Tony cursed slightly at the time and calls out. "Peter! Come introduce yourself, kiddo! These guys'll end up being your team!" Steve straightened impossibly further, ready to greet the kid that he'd thrown a ginormous vehicle onto a few months ago. But he didn't get that far. 

"No! Tell them to fuck off, Mr Stark!" The voice sounded extremely pissed off, but Tony just flushed, slightly embarrassed. 

"Peter!" He scolded, for all the world looking like a Dad, "Be polite!"

"I'm not polite to hypocrite, fascists!" He called back, sounding angrier. The young man poked his head around the door, mask in place, "Thanks for the help with the homework, Tony. And I'm sorry, for the language." The billionaire just sighed and made a shooing motion. 

"Less fascism, more studying." He ordered, and if his eyes hadn't been sparkling so much he would've almost passed for stern. Tony chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, flashing them a smile that didn't look all that apologetic. "Sorry about him. He's a headstrong kid, but a good one. Uh, all your floors should be the same..." The genius continued, giving a brief verbal tour of wherever the newbies would need to know while Steve stood dumb. Tony didn't... He didn't seem affected at all. He certainly hadn't spent a whole jet flight hyperventilating in the bathroom. He hadn't spent countless evenings supplying 'what-Steve-would-say' in his head. Tony hadn't longed for him, day after day avoided things that reminded him of Steve, pictured how he was going to fall to his knees and apologise countless time. 

Looking around, it was as if Tony hadn't noticed he was gone. 

"Well, I'll leave you to get settled in, I suppose. I apologise, but I'm a little tied up right now. T'Challa and I have scheduled dinner tonight for eight, I'll make it a group thing." He did the very-vague-yet-always-applicable-to-everything hand wave that Steve had been missing and then strutted back over to the table covered in what looked like hospital blueprints. 

Numb, and feeling like he was underwater, Steve stumbled back to the elevator, hands gripping his belt so hard that he hears a little crack and wonders if he had broken the phone.

He supposed it didn't matter - he'd already broken everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, this was meant to be one chapter but I kinda wanna continue?   
> I want their confrontation. I want the dynamic between the members of team Cap who still hate Tony *cough* WANDA *cough*. I want the ceremony where Cap's team sign the accords.   
> Please tell me what you think, I crave validation, and PLEASE lemme know if you'd read more!   
> L :)


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peacemaking and peace breaking.

T'Challa arrived as they were eating breakfast. The table had been extended, nearly twice the size to accommodate for the new arrivals. Steve looked the picture of depression as he dejectedly swirled his Crunchy Nuts, watching Scott and Clint pour more and more maple syrup on their pancakes. The King walked in, quite literally dragging Tony by the collar and chastising him. The clang of Steve's spoon was a little too loud, but he was not alone. The other Avengers looked equally shocked. It made sense, of course, T'Challa had made it known that he and Tony were friends, but not 'I can drag him out of the workshop without getting a gauntlet to the face' close. 

Tony seemed unphased - more concerned with shoving T'Challa off him and picking up a plate. "You happy, Your Highness?"

The Captain's heart clenched painfully as he caught the teasing drawl and lopsided smirk that he'd missed so much, just out of his reach. 

"Very, mpenzi wangu." And, in fact, the other man did. By Natasha's amused snort, she clearly knew exactly what had been said. 

"Stop speaking nonsense." Tony teased, sitting on the countertop, as usual, nestled in front of the corner cupboard and swinging his legs. "You have work to do, anyway. Sign off on the changes I made to N'Yami - if you'd be so kind. Then come to the lab to check out the glass I've designed. Brucie already had a look but another genius can't hurt."

Scott looked up from his pancakes, curious. Steve was just grateful he didn't have to ask the questions. 

"What's N'Yami?" The shrinking superhero questioned through a mouthful of pancakes. 

"A children's hospital currently being designed and built by Mr Stark and myself, in Lagos. It's named after my Mother."

Steve flinched as Scott gave him the kind of look which clearly meant he was questioning the selfish image of Tony that everyone had fed him. The Captain couldn't stop himself from asking, "I thought no-one knew where Bruce was?"

The genius grit his teeth, "I don't know, guess fugitive mail is a little slow." So, there it was, the first barb. A warning look from Natasha had Tony's fangs away, but he was clearly determined to protect his friend. "He's inactive. He just comes to help me sometimes, he's living a civilian life. I hope you all respect that." The billionaire was polite enough, but it wasn't a hope, it was an order. 

"Of course, Tony." There was a moment where Steve said that name out loud, not Stark, or Iron Man. The Captain met Tony's eyes across the room and there was a hint of softness behind the masks. There was hope for them; Steve was sure of it. His intentions had been good, but misguided, and that meant there had to be a small part of Tony that understood. 

The second was promptly ruined by Wanda entering the kitchen. Tony looked up, a flash of panic in his eyes, and she smirked in response. Checking his watch, the genius slid off the counter and abandoned his remaining toast. "See you all at eight for dinner." 

Stifling the need to glare at Wanda for ruining his chance, he remembered a saying. _When God closes a door, he opens a window._ This was the perfect opportunity to talk to T'Challa. "So, T'Challa, you and Tony seem to get along well?"

"Yes, quite. It was rather sad when he denied my marriage proposal."

Steve's spoon revisited the table top. 

"He... You what?"

T'Challa looked unfazed. "In Wakanda, when you find the one, it's traditional to simply be married. I know Anthony to be the one I want to rule Wakanda with me. I didn't quite take into account the difference in culture. He got very flustered, I felt rather guilty about it afterwards. He said couples date for a century before they get married sometimes. And he hasn't even considered getting married himself. He hasn't turned down my wooing yet, however. There's always hope."

Ah yes, there's always fucking hope. Didn't he say the same?

"Well, that's... a surprise." Steve kept his voice even. "Good luck."

"No need, I'm the lucky one in this scenario, Mr Rogers." With a polite nod, T'Challa left, leaving Steve with the scrutiny of the other's gazes. 

"All of you shut up," Steve ordered, dumping his bowl in the sink.

"Jealous, Steve?" Natasha drawled, and he cursed her for being eternally unempathetic. 

"Surprised, is all."

No-one believed him. And he was jealous, though not of the fact they were getting married. Tony would probably kill him in his sleep. But of the certainty in T'Challa's tone when he talked about Iron Man. As if he knew the secrets behind his eyes and the map of his scars. As if he understood Tony in a way Steve could never, no matter how much he tried. As much as he felt around Tony's edges, tried to steer around them, know when to stay away, it was almost as if T'Challa had learned how to smooth them. Perhaps it was a genius thing, he thought bitterly.

New information swirling in his brain, Steve set off to re-explore the Tower, familiarising himself with the changes. Quite a few redesigns to allow for Rhodey, no doubt. He'd probed FRIDAY on the matter, and had been relieved to know that after months of physical therapy, the pilot was fully capable of walking and even running, it was just exhausting, which they were working on. Guilt still churned in his stomach when he saw the wheelchair propped up in the corner of the living room. 

He found his access to be as unrestricted as before, only a few places that were Tony's alone kept out of his and almost everyone's reach. Steve's fingers brushed the button for the workshop, applying the slightest pressure as if he could actually press it. Taking a deep breath, he imagined that everything was how it was: Steve imagined himself standing in the same spot, plate of pasta in his hand. He would descend to the 'shop and scold Tony. Watch him devour the pasta and ramble on about whatever he was working on, content to be close to such genius, even as it slipped right over his head. How he'd taken that for granted. 

Releasing the breath that he'd been holding, Steve scolded himself. Ironically, it was a very Stark thing to think.

There was no point dwelling on the past if he wasn't prepared to fix the future.

Wasting the day reacquainting himself with his home and other things, like their PlayStation and New York pizza was easy enough - it distracted him from the anxiety he felt towards the coming night. He knew the others felt it too, and with reason. It would be the first time the team, new and old, sat down together and interacted in a way that wasn't throwing planes at one another. To think, he used to complain about business dinners being awkward. 

Eight o'clock rolled around, and Steve slipped into a free seat, in between Clint and Sam, who were already shoving bread into their mouths. He poured himself a glass of wine, noting that whatever was in Tony's glass was either vodka or water. 

The awkward silence was finally broken by Tony.

"Okay, well, this is awkward so I'll start." He gave a dramatic cough, stood up and raised his glass, "I'm sorry to anyone that I tried to play Cops and Robbers with." Sam and Clint actually laughed, and there was a tension break. 

_I'm sorry I tried to arrest you all, and it was my fault they kept you in that prison._

Always game for a joke, Clint stood up next, "Sorry to anyone I sassed with my amazing charm."

"I'm sorry for anyone's ass I kicked because you all suck." Natasha didn't bother to stand up.

"Sorry for trying too hard too hard to be Tweetie Bird." Sam drawled. 

It was a cleansing of sorts. The apologies that weren't really apologies but at the same time, totally were, was the best way to describe it. All of them were joking, but each apology came with a message hidden in plain sight. They were sorry, all of them. And that was the first step to making it right.

Steve was last, "Sorry for thinking I was cool just because I had a frisbee." He looked directly at Tony. 

_I'm sorry I was so arrogant because I was Captain America._

"Speaking of the frisbee, it's in my workshop."

"Yeah?" The conversation was as tentative as sculpting glass. "I had a few ideas about it, actually. I really don't think Captain America suits me, anymore."

"Ah, rebranding?" There was a pause as dense as Tony's metal. "Why don't you come down to the lab sometime and we'll have a look at the paint job?"

Steve didn't bother to hide the smile that conquered his features. "Sounds like a plan, Tony." It wasn't the same. It couldn't and wouldn't ever be the same. But maybe, just maybe, if he played his cards right, it could be better. 

Dinner cleared up fairly quickly after that, and he trailed back to his floor with a full stomach and a hopeful heart, a combination that was more than he could ask for. His bedroom hadn't changed a bit, the drawings still framed on the windowsill, the sheets still neatly made in the regulated way he'd been taught. Steve didn't dare to refer to it as home just yet, but he allowed the warm feeling of comfort to spread through him as he sunk into the pillow. 

His happiness was not enough to keep the nightmares at bay. Seas of corpses surrounded him, shiny rifles clutched in lifeless, rotting hands. The train rumbled past, and he had to get to Bucky, now, now, now. But it was too cold and he was frozen, one of the corpses. His eyes just as open and unseeing, but he was alive. The whole scene was tinged with blue.

Stumbling into the kitchen to drain a glass of water, Steve tried to slow his heavy breathing. The barest step on the floorboard had him whirling around, glass threatening to break under his grip. The dimly lit figure paused, reluctantly turning around.

"Bruce?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, I couldn't resist continuing! For those of you who were ready for the Steve/Tony confrontation, it is coming, don't worry. I'm just an asshole and I'm building up to it. ;)
> 
> I actually have loads of muse for this fic and different relationships that will take place after civil war, so there will definitely be more chapters added to this. Please comment below if you liked it, the comments on the first chapter were fucking awesome, it was amazing to see how many of you guys had opinions on where you wanted to see this fic go! I take all the comments into account when writing this kind of thing, so please leave your feedback below! 
> 
> This chapter was a relatively happy break - a calm before a storm. Fair warning.
> 
> L :)

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, this was meant to be one chapter but I kinda wanna continue?   
> I want their confrontation. I want the dynamic between the members of team Cap who still hate Tony *cough* WANDA *cough*. I want the ceremony where Cap's team sign the accords.   
> Please tell me what you think, I crave validation, and PLEASE lemme know if you'd read more!   
> L :)


End file.
